


Rebuilding

by RavenTheJoker



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Daedric Princes, Greymarch, Shivering Isles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 17:42:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10746636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenTheJoker/pseuds/RavenTheJoker
Summary: This just sort of happened one day. No idea what to make of it myself.





	Rebuilding

Why was the wall even there? That was uncanny. So very, very, very, very very very very very very very very very VERY uncanny. Or did he put it up himself? Well, uncanniness over- no wait he did not! He still had no memory of not putting it there (the last night was a blur), but it’s oh so blandly silver colour told him all he needed to know.

Yup, Jyggalag was here again

————————————————–

The Madgod blinked and looked around himself. Shivers went down his naked body, both because of the chilly air and because of what he saw. First things first. Fingers snapped, some clothes appeared. Bright green and brown colour coding, not his usual style, but their jester-like diamond pattern comforted both of his brains. He them on - leather pants that looked like jeans, a linen shirt and a leather jacket that looked like a hoodie, and heavy leather boots that stopped just under his knees. Yes, he was feeling… rebelious, today

Now to more serious matters. Was this the Greymarch? It very much seemed like it. But there was something off. No Greymarch was supposed to be there! Ever! He made sure of that when he killed that scum of an Orderly Daedra. His past self, that is. The one that wasn’t him, but met him. Then was him. Nevermind that, he already knows all of it anyways  
Now, all around him were white walls. Cubes. Rectangles. Few spheres and triangles. All shining in their disgusting whiteness. And, worst of all, they all replaced everything and everyone in the Isles. He could clearly see tall rectagles where his mortals stood before. The silver one in fron of him used to be Haskill. How unfortunate. He took a liking in the fella  
His Isles were metal cubes. Or sugar. All of them. Even the soil. Even his Palace, even his alcohol, even his staff was white before he broke it out of the ice

He walked around for literal days, assessing the damage. Yes, everything destroyed. Turned white and lifeless. Even the water. It was getting him sick, oh so very sick. He considered barfing, just to add some colour to this bland land

And then, he found a message. A very clear message. An exact replica of Jyggalag’s sword, whatever it’s name was. He never bothered to learn about vermin. His message was clearly written on it, in Daedric. ‘Have fun’ it read. In that moment, rage was the only thing that filled his mind. And in that moment, he realized just how little power he has  
His fist met with one of the white cubes, expecting to break it in half. But instead, it was his fist that literally broke in two halfs. The other half flew away and shattered, leaving splashes of different colours on every surface it touched. His hand quickly grew back while viciously smoking, but he blankly stared at it for hours after. Whatever this was, he was not going to forgive the Heretic. Revenge would be had

And then, the Madgod spent days examining the cubes. He found many fragile ones that he broke easily. Out of their bits he made furniture, mostly chairs and tables, all alive and further helping him examine the New Isles. He coloured them with his own blood, telling himself it’s to distinguish them from the whiteness, but in truth the colours comforted him. His servants were seemingly stronger than him. At least their limbs never fell off, and they could cut the whiteness easily and wizth great precision. Soon he had thousands of little chairs, tables, few mirrors, some stools, one coat hanger (who he made his new chamberlain) and a rather adorable wooden child who introduced himself as Pinocchio. He burned him the night he was made

After months, New Isles started looking quite nicely. His workers were fast and efficient. He despised them for that. They listened to his orders to a word, never protesting, never coming up with new ides. He despised that most. After the first year, everything was cleared. Every single white rectangle (and all other shapes) was mined and refined. After one more month, he learned hot to bend and use the material, and even how to controll the colours his blood made on it. Before the first year was even hlaf over, New Sheoth was standing again  
But it was so different. No castles, no huts, no walls. It was a different style altogether, one he never thought he’d use. Instead of the usual houses, tall buildings stood. The highest ones reached to the clouds, and his new Palace reached far above them. Skyscrapers, he called them. Well, mortals did. He didn’t feel like giving them a new name. And he made sure they weren’t as bland as the old white rectangles. They had many different shapes, some had branches sticking out of them, others snaked around each other until they connected. They were scattered around in random clusters, connected by roads and rope bridges. There were parks and such around too, narrow and round, obvious and hidden, one with a lake full of white piranas

Within a year, New Isles were filled with such buildings. There was enough material to fill the empty space, and the rest was filled in with the scraps of his workers. Hating their perfection, he was hesitant to use them as anything other than fuel, but eventually gave in and filled his parks with statues  
A big downside was the insane ammount of blood he used as paint. He fainted multiple times along the way

And so, Sheogorath sat on his new throne, made of little colourful cubes that randomly deattached from it, floated around, and settled in a completely random place. He very subtly changed his outfiut. It now looked like something a teenager would wear - hoodie, headphones, shirt, jeans with chains on them, all in bright neon green and brown colours in diamond jester-like pattern  
There were two logical things to do now. One, get New Isles inhabited, and two, find Jyggalag and beat the Order out of him

Then he puked all over that logic, and went into the mortal world to get drunk


End file.
